Stitch Removal – a zig zag story
Today marks four years since my full cornea transplant (Penetrating Keratoplasty due to advanced Keratoconus). A time where I know my donor family will be remembering the life and tragic loss of their lovely Sandra, just a year older than I am now. A day where I can look back and be so very thankful that my eyesight is better now than it was back then, due to the thoughtfulness of strangers.
There have been some significant changes in that time.
Mainly, the breakup/down of my romantic relationship. It is still very early days in the separation for me; I am at the start of the process of finding the learning in this new situation. Self reliance and being alone – each day is different. Trying to remember to be mindful of the words I use, the stories I tell myself and the power of a changed perspective. Feeling it all; denying nothing; sharing responsibility; letting it wash over me in waves; accepting help with gratitude, appreciating friendship and offers to get me out; being brave – my way of being able to move from day to day.
It is helpful to know that what I feel right now may be different in the next moment and to let that be.
A (huge!) photo of my zig zag stitches – and (from 6 to 10 O’Clock) some of the visible scar tissue
Moving back a few months, I replied to my donor family who had sent photos and a letter full of love for their Sandra. I shared photos in reply – ‘us’ on the tandem, smiling together, happy times. And a photo of the painting I made of my transplant eye – the stitches holding Sandra’s cornea in mine.
This is timely as I (finally) have a date for stitch removal. The 29th of June 2023 – four years and eight days following my summer solstice transplant. I am trying to downplay the momentousness of the occasion. My ocular expedition of the last eight years will boil down to the resultant vision after my continuous, running zig-zag stitch has been removed…
The enormity of this occasion rises like a sheer cliff face in the path of the weary wandered, without a belay.
The image above gives a vague idea of what keratoconus vision is like – you can tell that it is an eye – but there are lots of them, all slightly overlapping. It can make you feel quite queasy – especially having kc and looking at a picture of what kc is like!
Most people have their stitches removed (following a full transplant) somewhere before 2 years post-transplant. They are often taken out a few at a time to relax astigmatism, improving vision. Being me, my stitch is different (starry rather than single stitches) and my body slow to generate scar tissue. Having had the head/neck wound from my brain tumour open up upon staple removal, I was ‘happy’ each time my cornea Dr suggested we wait another 6 months. The scar tissue hasn’t been consistently forming between donor cornea and my own. However, at four years, the stitches will be embedded, and to give me the opportunity of improved vision, they must be removed.
While this normally happens in the consulting room, I was put on the theatre list, incase the transplant ‘pops open’. In that case, it will require stitching again. Unfortunately, this is not performed under general anaesthetic – though a numbing drop will be used. I hope that the poor close-vision in my transplant eye will save me from the best view of proceedings. A pillar seat and no binoculars for me, thank you very much.
This close-up image demonstrates a few places where my kc made it difficult to determine which stitch line was the real one!
The big thing about stitch removal for me is that there is no knowing what my final vision will be. Whilst it could be better than what I have now – it could also be worse. The stitches, holding my cornea tight just now, once removed, will leave the cornea in a shape no one can predict.
This photo shows what my rigid gas permeable (rgp) contact lens can look like when it’s ‘fogged up’. I am better off without it at these times…
Having spent 8 years delving – trying to find a solution to be able to wear my (necessary) contact lenses for longer than an hour – this (frustrating) situation is likely to continue following my stitch removal. The resulting uncorrected vision is *everything*. It is not without mental and emotional challenge.
So, I am doing my best to practise what I preach.
This includes (the intention of) using advice from some kind and sagely friends:
- Positive affirmations – turn it around – ‘Think it, write it, read it, begin to believe it – repeat!’
- Look from a different perspective (Dewitt Jones’ Ted Talk)
- What I CAN do, not what I can’t
- Use ‘what IS’ instead of ‘what if’
- Turn around the negative ‘what if’ into its opposite
- Visualise the best possible outcome
- USE my creative mind, or it will create all by itself!
Medication is starting to help. Yay! Menopausal symptoms, including anxiety and depression, are beginning to turn in retreat now that my dopamine levels are no longer depleted. This is most definitely helpful in the run up to my stitch removal. Good timing!
I took this photo at my latest eye-hospital appointment – just for fun! It shows my Dr (and the pesky eye chart) reflected in my cornea picture on the computer screen- with the meticulous zig zag starry stitches he sewed!
Though a wee while ago now, my painting is one of those that I find difficult to look at. I was recently reminded of the self portrait I sold from my art college degree show (over 30 years ago!), driving through North Berwick with my brother. My Dad and I had delivered it to the buyer’s house. I couldn’t look at it in the eye either!
This sequence shows a progression from drawing to painting, using a mix of media:
[please excuse all the additional gubbins and clunky video – to be refined – all in good time]
The NHS Blood and Transplant coordinator asked me, back at the time of latest correspondence, if they could interview me for promotional purposes, using some photos and my painting, as there is a severe shortage of corneal donors in the UK just now.
Do talk to your nearest and dearest about donating after death – it can make a whole world of difference!
